Plaguing at His Heart
by White Shade
Summary: William T. Spears finally gets a few of those days off, but it's not exactly what he had in mind. Is it even possible for a reaper to contract illnesses? Grell is in a fret as usual, but what on earth could Undertaker have to do with all of this? Rated just in case...
1. Chapter 1

**Plaguing at His Heart**

Grell was in a fret over this, over everything that was going on. As far as rumors went, Will was finally getting his week off, but he also heard that Will was dreadfully ill. He hadn't seen his manager for about a month, as he was trying to behave himself by finally collecting those truly troublesome souls.

The firm seemed different somehow as the sun rose, signaling the end of his shift. He stared out the window for a few moments, just listening to the rush of the shift changes, new reapers on the dayshifts for practice, the sound of the clicking typewriters. Everything had seemed as it had always been. The only difference was, when Grell peered through Will's office door, there was no reaper in Will's chair.

With his own shift over, what was there to do except sleep or mess around? Grell was better at the latter, but this time, Bassy didn't sound too intriguing. No, something was off. Something wasn't normal, and Grell was driving himself more insane the more he thought about it. A panic had been rushed over him since he'd heard the news about Will. Then again, he was probably the last reaper Will would want to see, especially after he'd finally gotten those days off he'd been yearning for since, well...forever.

"So fun, so much fun." Today was the same as any other. With the Earl out of town on duty, there wasn't much to bother this man today. No demons, no hounds, no maids nor butlers, just him and the great job he had.

"What a lovely corpse!" Undertaker exclaimed, staring at the body of a gentleman whose brain had been smashed in. Murder, obviously by the look of the skull's repair. Undertaker took the skull, reopened it slightly only to put yellow flowers in between the folds of repair. After stitching that back together, he repositioned the corpse and stared at it for a little while.

"Hmmm now let's see," he pondered to himself as he browsed his shelving. The body itself had already been prepared, all Undertaker had left to do was dress it and decorate. He followed his own instructions, but just as he was about to place the last flower onto the man's chest...

BANG!

"You there!" Oh, that unmistakeable bloodstained red hair! "I need some information."

"Hi," Undertaker replied, waving his right hand, finishing his final preparation and closing the casket lid. "What do you want with me?"

"I already told you, information," Grell slammed the door dramatically behind him and locked it from the inside latch. "Don't worry, I'll only take a few minutes."

"Hasty are we?"

"I am." Grell sat down, waiting for Undertaker to do the same. His death scythe at his side, Grell stretched out and brushed through his hair with his fingers. Undertaker sat down peacefully with a cup of tea, which the red reaper politely refused.

"What do you know about William T. Spears as of late?" Grell asked.

"Spears?" Undertaker seemed slightly confused. "Who is this William T. Spears?"

Grell sighed with annoyance. "That gorgeous reaper who manages the English branch of the agency. He's a manager, and he's recently taken the week off. Some are even going so far to say he's dreadfully ill. You happen to know anything about that, bounder?"

"Oh, _that_ William T. Spears," Undertaker pondered. "Yes, I did hear somethin' about that. If he's ill, he'll need all the time he can get."

"That's just it, how could he be ill? What could he possibly have?" Grell exclaimed, staring deeply at Undertaker as the bounder thought for a few moments.

"Well, there are a few ales that medicine cannot cure," Undertaker said. "It's probably nothing. He's always going on about something, never takes any time. My guess is he's stressed out and it's finally caught up to him."

"Will, stressed? Impossible, I haven't seen him in a month!" Grell refuted.

"Perhaps it's not you stressing him out."

Grell's eyes widened as though Undertaker had just provided him with a new perspective. A small gasp even escaped his lips.

"Really?" Grell was near speechless. "Then...what? Where could I find him?"

"No use looking for him," Undertaker said. "He probably doesn't want to be found."

"I need to know!" Grell stood, becoming more frustrated with the situation with each ticking minute. His fist hit the table in front of them and had just begun to shake.

Undertaker looked up at the red reaper with curiosity. Grell's eyes met with Undertaker's. They truly were beautiful, those bounder's eyes, however Grell would not allow himself to be distracted today. But still, what a seductive gaze!

"I can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong here," the reaper explained. "I've known Will for a very long time. We went to school together. Our final grades depended on each other. Why the hell would he just leave and not say anything if I wasn't the one causing him so much stress? Why wouldn't he say anything to me? I never heard he wasn't feeling well until the day I found out he'd left and wouldn't be back for a week. That was only yesterday!"

Undertaker silently watched, observing Grell's furry, frustration and aggravation. Deep down though, Undertaker noticed something else. Grell was worried. Noticing this type of concern nearly made the bounder crack under circumstances.

"Have you checked the library?" Undertaker suggested, but Grell wouldn't have that.

"I know you know something! Now tell me what it is," the red reaper was pressing until Undertaker felt himself trapped in his own shop. Grell backed him into a casket standing upright. His stare was gruesome enough to even make Undertaker twitch.

"Shhhh," Undertaker whispered. "You never heard it from me...ever." Grell stopped pursuing to listen to the legendary reaper, fists down, glasses pushed up, the whole deal. The red reaper displayed his most attentive manner with full sincerity.

"William's body is having difficulties. It's an infestation," Undertaker said. "That's all I'm going to say."

Grell was infuriated, not knowing what was wrong with Will. If Will couldn't be his manager anymore, he certainly wanted to why and how. As much as he tried, there was no more information from Undertaker, leaving Grell at his wits end.

"Please..." Grell was holding back every emotion at this point, reduced to beg before the bounder. Sweat dripped from his forehead off the flames of his hair, and as his fist quietly transformed into a desperate grasp to the table for life, Grell stared into the wood, thinking about nothing except where he might find William T. Spears.

Undertaker still would not budge, and instead he retreated to his back room, leaving the red reaper unsatisfied and humiliated.

Standing there, Grell's glasses fell from his face, hitting his chest, and his eyes took to the adjustment. However, he was not planning on going to sleep. No, he continued staring into that same table for another whole hour when Undertaker returned.

A frown formed along the lines of Undertaker's lips, finding that reaper in such a pathetic state, staring at his table. Well, he knew Grell wasn't actually meant to be staring at anything in particular, but rather he was thinking; the table just so happened to be the object of his iris's focus.

A crunching sound filled the room, but Grell did not look as Undertaker munched on a couple of doggy treats from a cauldron, resting upon the corner of a shelving stack. Assessing the situation further, Undertaker walked towards Grell, noticing how still he had truly become. From his sleeve, he produced a vile, a clear liquid resting within. Now it was a matter of getting the reaper's attention again.

"Take this to him."

Grell's head slowly reeled up to look at Undertaker, and after a deep swallow, he directed his attention upon the bottle.

"Wha-what is it?" he asked, adding a rather whimpering tone to his already higher than normal pitched voice.

"It's for William T. Spears of course," Undertaker replied. The reaper's body began to wake up from his standing position, resulting a few cracks of the back as Grell slowly reaffirmed his stance.

Silently, he took the bottle, examining it for a few moments, wondering if Undertaker could even be trusted. Anything could be in this vile, including William's ultimate demise. It could also contain his ultimate cure, the only problem was Grell didn't know which one was contained at the moment. That was the next topic he decided to haggle with on his own.

"It's meant to cure the infestation. I was supposed to bring it around a few hours ago, but the draft slipped my mind entirely," Undertaker informed him, officially snapping him of his thought process.

"What? You're telling me that you forgot to help William cure a deadly disease? How could you forget something like that!" Grell exclaimed.

"Ah ah," Undertaker put up his right index finger. "I forgot _how_ to make the draft and procure the contaminate that's supposed to cure what he has. I haven't seen it in about 500 years, much less had to deal with it." He was smiling now, but Grell's mouth formed a gasp. He snatched the vile, demanding Will's location, which had been written down for him as soon as he requested the information, this time.

With that, the red reaper left nothing but a single trace of his existence within the shop. He'd run out so quickly, the one tear that he been swelling in one of his eyes had finally fallen onto the perfect wood of Undertaker's table. A small smirk graced Undertaker's face, but not in an amusing and madding way. He felt a sense of sorrow for the reaper cloaked in red. That kind of torture must be near to killing him inside. A reaper's tear signified a weakness to the utmost significance.

These were not fake or whiny tears, no, this was a sincere emotion. No matter how Grell spun the matter, William mattered most to him. As much as he may try to distract himself amongst the demons or even other reapers, there was never a desire of such protection.

"Could be worse," Undertaker told himself. "He could be attracted to a mortal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

When a grim reaper weeps horribly out of a pouring emotion too much to handle, it can take over the entire body. Their desires can become so strong, it has been rumored that their tears contain a special property. Getting hands upon a reaper's tear is of the utmost rarity, and it was now ingrained in Undertaker's tabletop.

Extracting the tear was nearly impossible now, but Undertaker wondered if Grell had ever strived to take any task so far. All he could do now was reread the texts, which were not significant in number, about the reaper's tear. All these books were theory based, for no researcher has ever gotten so close to a situation in which the properties of the tear could be analyzed efficiently and systematically. This could very well be his best chance.

Daylight was positively bothersome, if there could be anything more annoying to a professional reaper. Sutcliff weaved his way through town until the pace just wasn't coming along fast enough. Getting to know rooftops was the best decision he'd made in reaper's school system.

Hearing nothing of the sounds from cars, passerby conversation, nor even the crying children in the early morning market, the red reaper couldn't bare to think of what he would find when he reached Undertaker's destination.

"You better not be dying on me William. I swear to the heavens above I won't let you."

C in ethics...that was about right, the way this reaper could kick in a door. However, there was no one in immediate sight. The flat was rather simple in taste, but the art on the wall definitely signaled that inside dwelled a fellow grim reaper. The carpets were black, the furniture mostly grey with dark brown fixtures. Very few photographs, but there were a lot of files on the desk in the corner.

There wasn't much Grell could hear over the sound of his own heart throbbing and the way his chest heaved with every breath. His pace had been near the speed of his personally modified death scythe running along its motor. Finally, he'd stopped for a moment to kick down the door and allowed the work to transfer to his cognitive senses.

"Will?" this was a desperate cry. "Where the hell are you?"

Outside the window, Undertaker sat peacefully in a tree, observing the situation with a few dog biscuits.

There was mumble from another room across from Grell's current position. Slowly, the reaper found himself walking towards the cross section, not knowing which way was the right way. It seemed so strange, just a moment ago he'd do anything to get here, and now that he was almost face to face with what was going on, Sutcliff didn't want to make any mistakes. Treading carefully, a sudden clicking reached his ear and within a split second, his death scythe had come up to save him. Grell had just turned the corner to find a figure writhing in a corner. A hedge clipper death scythe, undoubtedly William's. Grell's scythe had just cut off the end of Will's. Both of them remained frozen until Will's death scythe retracted.

"Sutcliff," his voice was raspy as he turned to spit into a basket alongside him. Green eyes stared, fixated upon the shadowed corner, just enough not to be able to see Will's face. A shiver flowed from the back of Grell's delicate neck to his lower back. Seeing someone like this was nearly worse than a murder. Even with the spectacles back upon his face, there was no better picture of the situation.

All he could bring himself to do was stare, speechless at what was going on before him. Will looked as though he were one of those dying victims in the streets, starving or dreadfully ill.

There were more heaving sounds, this time not from Grell. Clearly, the black reaper's illness was something most mortals would have died from already. With a sudden motion, Grell remembered the bottle in his pocket, pulling it out swiftly. He brought himself to move toward William.

"You need this," Grell said hastily, kneeling near him and offering the small bottle. "It's actually from the Undertaker."

Will's hand reached for the bottle, black as the carpet beneath them. Grell had been accustomed to his manager always wearing those silly gloves, but something wasn't right. This was intimate contact only flesh could provide.

"By God, what the Devil is happening to you?" Grell exclaimed, retracting his own hand. William wasn't wearing gloves. His chest heaved again and he once again retreated to the basket.

"Grell, leave," William ordered as he popped the cork from the bottle.

"No," the red reaper protested, watching as William took the draft. "Not until you tell me why your hand is as black as the cat I passed in the street and why you-"

"I said, leave!" Will's face emerged from the shadows, revealing a ghastly complexion that made even Grell wince at the sight. Still, his ground _would_ be held, no matter what happened. Will's face was fraught with outbreaks of black and red and...whatever the purpleish stuff was resting between his cheekbone and neck. His hands were turning black and he was having trouble breathing...

"I don't want you to catch this."

"Will!" Grell exclaimed. "No! No, I'm not leaving! Not with you like this. I couldn't bare it!"

Silence issued as William bent over again, this time with another squint of agony ready to emerge from his throat.

"What's happening? What's wrong?" Grell was becoming overprotective at this point, but William wouldn't have it. As he reached out to touch his shoulder, William fought back.

"Can't you see? I'm dying, Sutcliff. There's nothing that can help me. Leave, now!"

Grell gasped, overcome with an emotional sediment that wouldn't go away. Will stopped moving for a few moments, letting his body go limp. He was too weak to fight, allowing himself to hit the floor out of exhaustion.

"Will!" Grell returned once again to the reaper's side, lifting the limp body to find that he was still breathing. "No! No no no no no no no no no..." The black was beginning to spread a little farther up his cheek to align with his eyes, and Grell could see the veins beginning to die. The breathing was shallow, and it seemed as though Spears was beginning to lose hope even in himself.

"William T. Spears..." Grell swallowed hard. "You, you are not dying. You are not at Death's door." There was no answer from the reaper.

"Please William, answer me! Anything, anything at all, I don't even care. Tell me you hate me, come on. Say something!" Sutcliff exclaimed, thinking this is what it must be like when humans describe agony.

Sutcliff kneeled on both legs this time, holding Will in both his arms, watching for a sign of improvement. The bottle was empty, why wasn't anything happening? His vision began to cloud as a reaction. He did not want to see Will like this, ever again.

The breathing got even slower, but Grell was too afraid for once in his life to flee and get help. He was afraid it would be too late and Will would die alone before another reaper would come and collect his soul.

"I'm not, I will not, I could not, I could never, Will!" he began to shake the body, leaning over it to whisper the last statements. "Don't make me do it, Will. Please. Don't make me collect your soul..."

"Oui! You, step aside!" there was a voice coming from behind them. Grell stood up, William in his arms, but all he saw was another reaper, instantly recognized by the man standing in the doorway.

Sutcliff sat on the bed, still keeping to William. He clutched the body so close to him, it was the last thing he would ever give up. Hiding behind his hair, Grell let the teardrops fall onto Will's face before laying him aside on the bedspread. Taking one last look, Grell wasn't giving up so easily.

The chainsaw was revved and ready.

"Move aside, I need his soul."

"Over my deadly body honey," Grell growled, grinding his teeth and beginning to find his deeper breaths again. The reaper was just trying to do his job, Grell understood that much, but this wasn't an easy matter for him to accept at the moment.

The two reapers went after one another, fighting for the soul collection.

"Ooo, this is getting good!" Undertaker exclaimed, leaning in to further examine the body of William T. Spears. The teardrops had hit the reaper's face and were now making their way to his mouth. Undertaker watched as all the energy Spears had left went to extending his tongue to hit the salty delight of both teardrops Sutcliff had provided. He swallowed while Undertaker was taking notes. William too believed the myth of a reaper's tears were his last hope.

The chainsaw revved and roared as Grell finally cornered the novice.

"Check your list again!" Sutcliff snapped, narrowing in and watching as the boy took out his book and opened to the page with Will's name on it, looking back up at Grell. "The list is strictly for mortal souls, here me? Mortals."

"So sorry, my mistake...but I don't understand," the reaper was looking up in confusion, showing Grell the book. "The space is blank now. Does that happen often?"

Grell snatched the book as the list moved up, a name removed from the list. Why was Will's name on the To Die list if he wasn't a mortal? That could only mean the disease would have to be strong enough to kill a reaper from the inside, removing mortality and the frozen heart, thus adding him to the list.

The red reaper slashed his opponent as a warning and threw him out of Will's apartment, slamming the door and locking it.

"Don't ever let me find you here again!" he screamed before shutting it.

He ran back into the room where Undertaker was leaning over Will.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Grell ran back to Will's side, noticing the infection upon his face was starting to fade. Undertaker smiled.

"Congratulations, Grell Sutcliff," Undertaker said. "You have allowed for me to finish my research. William will be fine by tomorrow afternoon."

"How do you know?"

Undertaker set a book down onto the bed.

"Like I said, I haven't dealt with this in at least 500 years. It isn't often you see a reaper contract the Plague, but it's even less often you find a cure for them. It was the only ingredient I was missing."

Undertaker disappeared into the broad daylight, probably back to his shop. Grell glanced at the book resting on the bed. _The Reaper's Tear._ He noted that William had begun to sleep soundly and the infection was wearing thinner and thinner. Sutcliff picked up the book and began to read the theory behind a reaper's emotion. This seemed to be something of a legend more so than a theory, but there had never been any experiments.

A reaper's tear of sincerity was of one of the rarest objects in the world. There was never any room for emotion, especially within the job. Reapers lived when everyone else around them died; it was an everyday occurrence, and they pay no mind. Everyone around them was a part of their work, but every now and then, there are some who just cannot stand to see one soul be departed. Most of the time, this fact may sting the heart, but it never amounts to a single tear.

There were folk stories about the reaper's tear containing miracle properties, and some of the stories even involve reversing death itself. This matter was a complex one, for if they could take a life, why couldn't they be allowed to restore one, if only a few times? William was technically frozen, as were all reapers, so contracting a disease was already highly unlikely. The heart was still beating and the body functioning, so it was definitely possible. But, the Plague? How had William come in contact with the Black Death?

More stories told of a reaper who saved a medical professional because of sheer worry the person would contract the disease, using the reaper's tears. There was no scientific proof of the effects a tear could have on the frozen heart and the body system of other reapers.

"Hold on a second, are you telling me that I-oh," Grell remembered Undertaker's departure just then, looking at the clock to see that it was already 7pm of that same day. The bounder had long gone.

Grell looked at William, noticing his color was starting to return. The veins were returning to life, completely restoring themselves. That lovely, ghostly pale color! After propping him up onto a pillow, Grell took out the basket's contents to see that it was pure black. Cringing, he dumped it out back, hoping never to have to see it again.

The book was placed onto the nightstand next to the bed, and Grell continued to stay with William. Had Undertaker now collected proof about the reaper's tear? They were, after all, Grell's tears up for experiment. Smirking, he took Will's spectacles from his face and set them aside, letting his own drop to hang around his neck.

"So this is why I haven't seen you in a month."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Watching William sleep was by far the greatest sight Grell could hope for on a night like this. He contacted the agency, claiming a personal day to look after someone. The questions would come tomorrow, but part of him really wasn't concerned about it. Will's chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically. Finally, they could be at ease, not worrying over this illness any longer.

In his mind and Undertaker's, Grell had saved William's life, removed him from the to die list and now he was allowed to live, full immortality restored. Madame Red's coat was draped over Will, and Grell couldn't help but look at him for hours on end.

Sighing, he looked away for a few moments, almost ready to turn out the lights and sleep during everyone else's shift. Man wouldn't that feel nice, but just as he was ready to flick the switch, Will started stirring. As his eyes opened, a full smile came across Grell's face. The reaper rubbed his eyes and reached for his spectacles.

"Hey, dud." William gasped, looking at himself and his hands. He looked to see Grell's arms behind his head, nearly completely taking over the right half of his bed, legs crossed.

"What happened?" he asked. "How did I escape the plague?"

"Reaper's tears," Grell replied, holding up the book. Will nodded.

"I see." He looked down at the covers. "Whose, if I may ask?"

"You don't remember anything?" Grell asked. Will looked perplexed, recalling the last thing he saw was a figure standing in his doorway, thinking for sure death was coming.

"You didn't want to die then? Good," Sutcliff commented after Will's recollection.

"Were you here the whole time?" Will asked.

"Long enough to save you," he said.

"What?" Will gasped, pausing for a few moments. "They were...your tears?"

Grell stared at the bedspread now, sighing before looking Will in the eyes.

"Yes, they were mine," he confessed. "Undertaker put me through quite the struggle though." Grell began the story of his quest to deliver the bottle Undertaker had given him and what had happened when he got to the flat.

"I thought you were as good as dead. A reaper even came by to collect your soul, but I couldn't, I couldn't let him take you. It was me or no one."

"Grell..." Will was growing speechless, believing everything he was hearing. Their green eyes met, but looked away just as quickly.

"All I want to know is how the hell you came in contact with a disease nearly 500 years old," he finished the story with that question. Will did not want to explain right away, but Grell didn't really care it seemed, at least not enough to keep persisting as he usually did.

Another few silent moments passed between them as William propped himself to lean more comfortably on the bed against the headboard. He grabbed and pushed his glasses up to his face.

"That's two spots on the record then," he said, taking the red coat and looking at Grell. "Both stained in red."

Grell smiled, seeing he had the old William back; the breathing William that is.

"Come here Grell," he said, sighing as though he felt obligated, patting the side of bed about two inches from himself. The red reaper said nothing, only allowing himself to control what was going on inside, which was a wave of different emotions. William took his red reaper and threw him against his chest. A full embrace.

It didn't take Grell long to accept that gesture. He leaned fully onto Will's chest, wrapping one arm around Will's back and resting the other upon his shoulder. In his mind, this felt more like a dream than an actual reality. This was completely unexpected behavior from one so well modified to the structure of reapers.

"Sometimes, you annoy me, and sometimes you fascinate me. You just never give up, do you? And your death scythe, it is quite impressive. The way you've personally modified it must've taken a great deal of time. You're ridiculously difficult when it comes to orders yet somehow, every night, your soul collection is flawless and you've successfully managed to find the time to track down that demon of yours."

Grell's head shifted, ready with a comment but Will insisted he not talk for a few more minutes. The red reaper rested his head on the black reaper's shoulder, waiting for him to finish.

"For as often as you're demoted, you seem to pull through with an impressive standing. Your judgment may not always be rational, but even though you'd like to deny it, you know when it is time to act. Grell, the first time, I understood. Our grades were depending on it. Why this time?"

"Oh William," Grell was already blushing. "You've always said there was no room for emotion in a job. Your consistency is aggravating, but I suppose necessary. Emotions guide people's hearts and as reapers, we must understand at least that. If you become so out of touch with your emotions, how could you ever collect a soul or expect to face another one like Thomas? Emotion is what makes us intermediaries. It's the only human connection we can share with them after we receive our reaper's spectacles."

"That still doesn't answer my question, Sutcliff."

"Oh but it does. I saved you, William T. Spears, because I have an emotional attachment to you. Your partnership, as I often tell you, is forever etched upon my body. You _can_ be kind of a bitch, though."

Will could feel Grell's pulsing hand upon his shoulder, noticing the beat was speeding up. Yet, Grell seemed perfectly content where he was lying as he lay his head back upon Will's shoulder. As much as the thought seemed wrong to him, William brought his hand down to Grell's waistline, tracing a line back up, knowing the red reaper would like that.

"Forever etched hm?" he asked, making Grell shudder with excitement.

"Ooo, yes," Grell replied, bringing his head up slightly. "You're so cruel."

"I suppose I do owe you at least one time," Will confessed. "Just don't push it."

"One time?" Grell asked, slightly confounded, but the circumstance was clarified once Will ran his hand down Grell's back slowly and with such precision, making the red reaper nearly melt into him.

"Yes, do tell me how we ended up on a bed together," Will said, but Grell leaned in close, tracing his own hand up Will's chest, unbuttoning the top collar. Now this was play, Will, he thought to himself.

"Not telling," he smirked, showing a portion of his sharpened teeth. "Not until you tell me how you got the plague."

William sighed, allowing Grell to unbutton the rest of his shirt and take off that formal jacket he'd worn every day of his reaper life. It was annoying that reapers needed sleep, almost as much as humans did. Sure, all nighters weren't a big deal; in fact, most reapers had become accustomed to it, but there are many times where sleep is inevitable. This time, Will could have rested, but he chose not to. He gave the chance up to Grell Sutcliff. A most horrible and irrational decision, really.

"You're always so tense, you should really take care of that," Grell said, letting the jacket fall to the floor as he reached up to feel Will's beating heart for the time being.

William took hold of the red reapers collar, untying the ribbon around his neck and forcing Grell to look him in the eyes as he casted it aside.

"I think you know why I'm always so uptight," Will said calmly, undoing the buttons holding Grell's vest together, which he then slipped off.

"It's either the fact you still haven't gotten over your eye color changing, the unpaid overtime, me, or maybe it's because you're experiencing _frustration_."

"Frustration?" Will keenly questioned. "As I told you, the eye color was just alarming. I didn't expect that to change."

"None of us did honey, but we know why," Grell was working on the already loosened tie, letting that hit the floor. "There. Now you can at least look like you're relaxing."

Grell's attire had been mostly undone by himself, just waiting to be so close to Will. The first time their flesh made contact, William was alarmed, while Grell seemed to savor the moment.

"I'm surprise at you," Grell sighed. "All that time during the final, when we _had_ to share the bed because yours was broken, and yet you still flinch when we touch."

"That was a long time ago."

"Yes, some of the positions we woke up in, my my, I'm surprised the ladies didn't think we were a couple."

"They did. Why else do you think we never got laid?"

"_You_ never got laid," Grell corrected. Will gasped.

"You're saying that you actually got laid? Who the hell?"

"Hey now. Shelly," Grell replied, noting Will's reaction. "Don't worry, she wasn't anything to brag about, and before you ask, no I didn't lay her on the bed we shared."

"Thank heavens," Will sighed. "But really? Shelly?"

"Yes, why? Crushing on her or something?" Grell asked. When William didn't answer, Grell instantly chuckled at the thought, in which they proceeded to argue over for another few minutes. To think, Grell Sutcliff would get the chance to lay Shelly Margret before Will had even asked her out on a date, back when they had time in school to spare.

"What else was I supposed to do? After that final exam, you certainly had me swooning. I could never tell you I had sex with a _girl_."

Oh, the moment after the final exam, walking to get their reaper's spectacles! That was quite the day for both of them. After reminiscing about that bit, William turned to Grell, who was now leaning back into him closely.

"I cannot believe I'm saying this," William began. "But I'm actually grateful to have you under my service."

"Aw, Will, you shouldn't have," Grell was blushing again.

"Just out of curiosity, since tonight has already been strange enough, what was it like?"

"What was what like?" Grell asked, and William turned to let him adjust beside him.

"Having sex with a girl," he clarified.

"Oh, that. Yes, not something worth repeating with her, but if you're desperate, go right on ahead. Oh...you don't even remembered what kissing is like either then, do you?"

Will turned away, thinking this discussion was getting a little out of hand. Grell was again blushing at the sight of Will, shyly attempting to avoid this, but a situation like this would not pass the red reaper so slyly.

"Look at me Will, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Grell said. Sighing, William turned his head back around, only to be allotted the surprise of Sutcliff's face inches from his own, which made him already feel uncomfortable.

"Just this once," he reminded Will before pressing his lips against the black reaper's mouth. Every fiber of his being told him to shove Grell away and that this was very, very wrong.

He never did, more curious than anything, and instead he tried to retaliate by replicating what Grell was doing with his mouth. Since he had no references, kissing Grell so far was proving _not_ to be the worst thing in the world. The red reaper had already shaped both hands in accordance with Will's jawline, completely immersing himself into this, nearly forcing his body on top of Will.

Spears didn't know what to do, so he kept his hands behind him to hold his own weight and tried to focus on how to do this properly. Grell let go before he'd had the chance to completely asses Grell's tactics.

"Hmm, well you didn't resist, that's a good first step," the reaper said, tapping his index finger against the rim of his glasses. "But, you're trying much too hard."

"What?" Will asked.

"This isn't a job, Will this is _kissing_. It's not supposed to be that difficult, I promise."

He leaned in closer once again. "Now, try again, but don't try too hard."

William's eyebrows rose as Grell pressed himself wholly against him along with the kiss this time. Letting his muscles relax leaned them both back, but that was all right. Instead, Will allowed himself to calm down, perhaps even enjoy the moment for a few seconds. He then noted that Grell's eyes were completely closed. Was that part of it?

Attempting, his eyes too closed, finding his other senses heightened, specifically touch. His arms felt odd just dangling there, but he didn't feel comfortable putting them on Grell's face. Instead, he chose to wrap them around Grell's waistline, noticing this time, they were locked for a longer period. Once more, the red reaper released him, still within their embrace but with both sets of eyes open.

"_Much_ much better," he sighed, blushing deeply. "You're already better than that brat Shelly." Will smirked.

"Oh really?" William asked. "And how much more of this business do you know about?"

"Sexuality honey, that's my specialty. Next to practical skills that is," Grell replied.

"Oh? So, practical skills in sex should be your greatest span of knowledge then?" Will was starting to piece things together.

"Dangerous assumption there, William. It's actually lower than what you might think," Grell said. "True, I know a lot about the subject, but copious amounts of experience haven't found me just yet. But I can assure you that I probably know more about this than you do."

William had to admit, he'd never kissed anyone before. The time seemed never to be allotted to him. He'd finally kissed someone though. Grell. He kissed him...her? Whatever! He kissed Grell, if that meant anything at all. Finally it was starting to hit him that he'd been thrown into some kind of trap.

"Why am I doing this?" Will asked out loud.

"Because you need to relax," the red reaper had answered him, unexpectedly to his knowledge of the nature the question had possessed.

"Shouldn't you be out reaping?"

"I took my night off, to look after you."

"Promise me two things, Sutcliff," Will began.

"Hm?" Grell asked, leaning back down onto Will's left side, holding him to the embrace. It was too obvious, he was in a bliss at the moment.

"No one else is to know about this. And, you are not to do this to me at work. Understood?" Will asked.

"Yes Will." Grell feared that not following any of those specifications would not only land him in trouble at work, but it would ruin any potential chances for the future. It was within that moment William could feel the pounding of Grell's heartbeat from his fingertips again, but this time, the rate was alarming.

"Is that healthy for your heart to do that?"

"Do what?" Grell asked.

"It's literally displacing the skin on my arm. Your heart is more than pounding, yet you seem perfectly normal," Will observed.

"Will, look at the situation!" Grell exclaimed with a smile. "You're not dead, you're holding me, and I even got to kiss you, twice. Of course my heart is racing!"

Although he was still confused, William took the matter lightly, deciding not to dwell upon it anymore. The night was already strange enough, but with Grell here, things didn't seem all that bad. With a yawn coming from the person next to him, William too was beginning to find himself near exhaustion.

"I swear it, you'll be the end of _me _one day, William T Spears," the red reaper sighed, placing himself as close as possible to William. One last kiss on the cheek was all that happened before Grell fell asleep and Will watched him for a few moments.

Kissing Grell was probably about as close as he'd ever get to a girl, but it was close enough. Stranger things have happened, such as contracting the pneumonic plague while on assignment to collect a sewer rat's body that had been dumped into London's sewer system after a murder scene. None of the reapers would prove such competence. However, there was certainly room in Grell for acceptance, a willingness, and a patience.

For the first time, Spears noticed Grell's flaming hair in its longest form, staring at the shimmer it made against the moonlight that had slowly begun to creep into the bedroom. Hesitant, he kissed Grell on the forehead, tightened his hold, and fell asleep.


End file.
